


Never Ever

by suckerfordeansfreckles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Best Friends, Confessions, Drinking & Talking, Drinking Games, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Sex, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Never Have I Ever, Oral Sex, Sappy, Sappy Castiel (Supernatural), Soft Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 00:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20165464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suckerfordeansfreckles/pseuds/suckerfordeansfreckles
Summary: Every other week, Charlie and Gilda and Row, Jo, Garth and Kevin, Benny, Chuck, Sam, Dean and Cas get together to get drunk — or, depending on preferences, high. They meet and get drunk and talk about life, most of the time. Sometimes, though, like today, they play drinking games.Today, it’s Never Have I Ever.It’s only a quarter past midnight, all of them are way past tipsy already, when Charlie giggles to herself and slurs: “Never ’ve I ever — ever slapped my partner’s ass durin’ sex.”A mixture of laughter and snorts wanders through their rows, and everyone raises their glasses. Everyone, even Garth — everyone except Cas.Everyone drinks, except Cas, and Dean just stares. He can feel the vodka dribbling down his chin while he drinks, and oggles his best friend some more.As soon as he swallowed and coughed his way through the burning liquor, he blurts: “Dude, seriously, never?”And that's how it begins.





	Never Ever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sharkfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/gifts).

> This is a very sappy and very nsfw thing I thought of while watching a random Never Have I Ever youtube video lol
> 
> IF YOU GUYS ARE VERY LUCKY I might get to link a story of sharkfish for the very same idea RIGHT here sometime soon!!!!!!!!!
> 
> BIG thank you to [them](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish)<3 and also to [casbean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbean/pseuds/casbean) for beta'ing this and encouraging my stupid ideas <33

Every other week, Charlie and Gilda and Row, Jo, Garth and Kevin, Benny, Chuck, Sam, Dean and Cas get together to get drunk — or, depending on preferences, high. They meet up and sit around the apartment of the week, though honestly most of the time it’s Charlie, Gilda and Row’s, simply because their place has the biggest living room. And also because Row is very particular about having their place stocked with good drinks at all times, which… is another big advantage. 

So they meet and get drunk and talk about life, most of the time. Sometimes, though, like today, they play drinking games. 

Today, it’s _ Never Have I Ever _. 

It’s only a quarter past midnight, but all of them are _ way _ past tipsy already.

They’ve been through quite a few rounds and two bottles of Row’s fancy tequila by now, had to switch to vodka a few minutes ago, and the questions are straying away from sneaky secrets they know about each other — _never have I ever jumped off a roof because I thought I could fly, worn pretty lace panties, flirted my way past security guards, jerked off thinking about a wrestler twice my age _— and are growing increasingly dirtier, until Charlie giggles to herself and slurs: “Never ’ve I ever — ever slapped my partner’s ass durin’ sex.”

A mixture of laughter and snorts wanders through their rows, and everyone raises their glasses. Everyone, even Garth — everyone _ except _ Cas. 

Everyone drinks, _ except Cas _, and Dean just stares. He can feel the vodka dribbling down his chin while he drinks, and oggles his best friend some more.

As soon as he swallowed and coughed his way through the burning liquor, he blurts: “Dude, seriously, never?”

Cas looks up at him with eyes so wide and blue, Dean feels dizzy. “No.”

“Not even… a little smack?”

Cas tilts his head, a soft smile stretching over his lips as he looks at Dean’s gaping mouth. “No.”

“Not even… even a tiny lovin’ little clap? Y’know, when their ass just looks _ so _ good?”

“No,” Cas laughs, head thrown back in a way that exposes his entire throat and makes Dean feel all weird inside.

“Dude — _ why _?!”

“Why… I’ve never hit someone durin’ sex? Because I never felt the urge, I guess? I’m more — more into soft touches and kissing.”

And then, because there is no way in hell he could help it, Dean goes a little hot all over, feels a little tingly. And he definitely can’t think about why he feels this way when his best friend and roommate talks about what he likes during sex, so he just… somehow falls into a rant and millions of questions.

“So you, like, you don’t like rough things?”

“Not really, no.”

“Like, bruises?”

Jo huffs next to him, and the elbow she rams into Dean’s side shoves him even closer towards where Cas is sitting on the couch by Dean’s left side. 

“Not really,” Cas says, an amused smile dancing over his lips.

“Hickeys? Love bites? None at _ all _?” There’s a shrill tone in his voice that has Charlie falling off the headrest of the lounge chair and right into Row’s lap with laughter. 

“No, I’m — I prefer soft kissing and nipping, rather than biting and sucking,” he says, and the way he does so makes Dean shiver and sink deeper into his couch cushion, hands in his lap. “No biting or spanking or hair pulling for me so far.” 

“Huh, alright,” Dean breathes in response, coughing over Benny’s snort of laughter. “Okay, but, c’mon on. Some hair pulling, right? Doin’ it doggy?”

Cas laughs again, looking a little flushed by now. “No, Dean, not even when I fuck someone from behind. I could just brush my fingers up their hips until my hands fit into the grooves of their waist, and then I’d have all the leverage I need to pull them back against me, instead.”

And that’s when Dean really notices that… Cas uses very gender-neutral words. And wow, that makes him think dangerous things, like maybe how it would be if Cas would let his hands wander up the soft skin of _ Dean’s hips _ until he can hold him firm and pull him back against his —

Dean is, for the first time in his life, _ very _ happy when Charlie interrupts them with her practiced _ Dean Winchester Stop This Right Now cough _ and _ stare with a raised eyebrow _-combo. 

“So,” Benny interjects pointedly, already raising his glass. “Never have I ever touched myself in a public space.”

And Dean tries so, so hard to focus on the questions and the drinking and the laughing — but at the back of his mind, he can’t stop thinking about Cas, naked and tangled in the sheets and trailing soft kisses along the column of Dean’s throat, up until his lips can reach behind his ear. About Cas, looking up at him with wide blue eyes from where he’s perched between Dean’s legs, kissing and nibbling on soft thighs, trailing his fingers down, letting them dance between the bedding and Dean’s asscheeks.

Because… now that he thinks about it, nobody has ever been as gentle with him as Cas’ short little descriptions make him sound. And Dean, he _ likes _ to be manhandled and bitten and roughed up a little during sex, but suddenly — suddenly he’s _ craving _Cas’ gentleness, he’s craving soft lips and touches and he’s desperate for Cas’ broad hands on his hips as he softly guides him into position.

He drinks some more, enough that the world blurs around him and he can mostly keep the hundred questions he has for Cas buried down where they are trying to make their way up his throat. He also learns way too many very, very disturbing things about both his baby brother Sam and his little sister Charlie — _ seriously, Charles, why would you ask that question and out your sexcapades like that?! _

The evening goes by faster than expected, and before he knows it, Dean is pressing wet kisses to Charlie’s, Row’s and Gilda’s cheeks in a_ thank you _and stumbles out of their apartment with the rest of his friends, all of them scattering out into the night in small groups. 

Most of them are gathering to share an Uber, but Cas and Dean are lucky enough to live five blocks away, so they link arms and stumble their way back to their apartment in the gentle rainfall around them. 

They pull their collars up as high as they can to keep the cold rain from dribbling down their necks, their arms intertwined and Dean’s head dropping down to Cas’ shoulder every now and then. Dean has a moment of bright, glaring gratitude for the fact that Cas has never held back with his physical affections, because it means in all Dean’s years of quietly pining, at least he got to sit close on the couch during movie nights, clap Cas on the back and the shoulder and let his touch linger, hug him _ hello _ and _ goodbye _. It means he can now hold Cas’ hand without feeling bad about it.

And Cas smells so familiar, so comforting, so perfect, Dean’s head gets all cloudy again. And that’s when the words tumble out of his mouth, only a block left until they are back home: “So, Cas. Really. You — um, never had rough sex, huh? How’s that... going?”

Cas sways this way and that, eyes full of something between amusement, confusion and wonder. And then he just looks at Dean bluntly, and says: “You want me to show you?”

It takes Dean almost a minute of very embarrassing staring and gasping as he desperately tries to figure out whether Cas is joking and making fun of him or actually, seriously, earnestly propositioning him right now. He notices, through all the gaping and the haze of alcohol, that Cas’ cocky smile slowly falls away and turns a little anxious — and he just can’t have that.

“Yes,” he blurts, without thinking about possible repercussions. “If you mean what I’m thinkin’ you’re meanin’, then: _ Yes _.” 

Cas looks up at him through his lashes, hair rain-damp and crazy, and breathlessly asks: “Yes?”

“Yes. _ Yes _. Let’s get… let’s get upstairs?”

And then they forget all about shielding themselves from the rain, and start to run and tumble towards their home. There are a quick few seconds of awkwardness when they both pull their keys from their pockets try to unlock the door, and then again when they fall into their apartment and have to make a decision on whose room they are going to move to, but then Cas just intertwines their fingers, sends Dean a crooked smile, and pulls them towards his room. 

They both sway a little while pulling off their boots, and once that’s done and Dean dumps his jacket on the chair by Cas’ table, he doesn’t know what to do. He finds himself watching as Cas sheds his jacket and sweater and turns around towards Dean, and then a few more very awkward seconds of staring follow. 

“So,” Dean interrupts, clearing his throat. “So, wha-”

But before he can finish that thought, Cas steps into his space, until their chests are pressed together and their mouths are almost touching, and Dean loses all breath and brainpower. 

“Dean,” he says against Dean’s lips, very quiet and very gentle, and the way his warm breath brushes against Dean’s mouth has Dean shaking out of his skin with anticipation and need. 

When Cas eventually closes the last remaining bit of distance between them and kisses Dean, it’s soft and careful and needy, and not at all like any first kiss Dean has ever experienced. There’s no shoving each other against a wall, there’s no pulling on clothes, pressing towards a bed or biting on lips. There’s no urgency for more. There’s only Cas, and everything he is, poured into a kiss that has Dean’s heart flying against his ribcage. There are hands in his hair, stroking and drawing patterns, and Cas’ lips, so gentle in their exploration. 

Cas is not shoving him towards the bed once they break their kiss for air. He links their fingers again and guides Dean, eyes full of a soft adoration that makes Dean wonder, for a brief second, if maybe he’s not alone in this. But then Cas speaks again, a lot more hoarse: “Do you wanna continue this, Dean?”

And Dean can only nod like crazy, his hands finding their way to the hem of Cas’ shirt and starting to pull without his permission. As soon as Cas’ shirt is gone and Dean gets ready to reach for his pants, Cas’ hands interrupt. They come down on Dean’s clothed stomach, dance around to his sides and up his back. Cas is watching his face with amazement, lower lip pulled between his teeth as his fingers explore Dean’s arms, make their way back down until they catch the hem of his sweater and gingerly pull it up and over his head. 

As soon as his head is free from fabric, he finds Cas’ lips on his own again. Cas kisses him as they make their way down to his matress, Dean on his back and Cas kneeling between his thighs. When their lips part again, Dean drops his head back onto Cas’ pillow with a soft sigh. 

“Cas,” he mumbles, dizzy and warm and tingly and so in love. 

But Cas just smiles down at him, fond and a little dazed, and Dean wishes he could tell if it’s from the alcohol or maybe actually because of him. And then Cas finally closes the distance between them again, but instead of meeting Dean where he’s already craning his head to capture Cas’ soft, chapped lips with his own again, Cas ducks down and starts peppering kisses against Dean’s jaw, makes his way down to Dean’s throat.

Soft pecks slowly transform into open mouthed kisses as Cas trails them up behind Dean’s ear. His hands are warm and gentle where they roam over the naked skin of Dean’s chest, his kisses are desperate, but there’s no force behind them, no teeth involved just yet.

Dean gets so lost in the feeling of Cas above him, around him, touching him, that he almost misses the soft words Cas speaks against his skin. He hides them between kisses, mostly sweet nonsense, but Dean catches something that sounds a lot like a whisper of “So gorgeous,” and then afterwards, buried beneath a little sigh against Dean’s racing pulse, something like “God, I wished for this”. 

But before he has time to react, Cas moves down, makes his way to Dean’s chest. He takes a few seconds to smile up at him, wide and a little giddy, before he wraps his lips around Dean’s left nipple, and Dean’s eyes drop closed with a moan. 

And _ that’s _ when teeth come into the mix, when Cas starts to carefully nibble on Dean’s nipple as if he’s done it a million times already, as if he knows exactly what to do to have Dean hard and aching, his brain reduced to jelly. 

Dean whines low in his throat, and Cas uses that moment to switch to Dean’s right nipple and let his hands wander down to pop Dean’s button and pull down his zipper, careful over the bulge in his pants. He lets his teeth graze over Dean’s nipple one more time before pulling away and moving lower, trailing his tongue along Dean’s soft stomach while his fingers tangle in his belt loops and pull his pants down over his hips. 

Dean barely manages to raise his hips enough to help Cas get his jeans down his legs before the way Cas is looking up at him through his lashes makes him sit up and catch Cas’ lips in another heated kiss. “Cas,” he breathes against his mouth, not really sure where he’s going, but he feels like he’s bursting with things he wants to say. 

“Shh,” Cas breathes against his lips, and then he pulls back and gently pushes Dean back down to the bed, replaces his hands with his lips and leaves soft little kisses on Dean’s stomach, the groove of his hips. “I want to make you feel good, Dean,” he murmurs.

“You are,” Dean says, and that’s when he finally remembers his own hands, and moves them down until his fingers tangle in Cas’ silky-soft, crazy hair. “God, Cas, haven’t even touched me yet.”

Cas smiles, something cocky but gentle, and sinks down towards where Dean is rock-hard and straining against his blue boxers. Cas ducks down low, until his nose is buried in the soft fabric, so he can mouth along until he can wrap his lips around where Dean’s leaking so much, his precome is soaking through the fabric. 

There’s a moment in which Dean feels bad about not having touched Cas at all so far, but that only lasts until Cas’ warm breath and spit soak his boxers, make them cling to his cock. When the way Cas mouths against him makes Dean shake and shudder, silently begging for more, there’s nothing he can think about except his desperate need for Cas’ lips on his dick. Dean’s fingers slide through Cas’ hair, petting and scritching and waiting, desperately, hips raising and sinking against Cas’ mouth. 

And as if he’s reading Dean’s mind, Cas’ fingers slip beneath the legs of Dean’s boxers, dance along his thighs, until they hold onto the fabric and carefully pull it down. As soon as the fabric slips down low enough, his cock slaps up against his stomach, accompanied by a delighted little sound from Cas.

Cas shoves his boxers down to mid-thigh, and Dean is so damn sure that he will finally get what he’s been hoping for — when Cas does even better and moves up, sinks down on top of Dean, and kisses him. He hadn’t even noticed how much he’d been wanting Cas’ lips on his own again, Cas’ tongue tracing his bottom lip, Cas’ weight against him, until the very moment he got it all. 

And now that Cas kisses him deep and needy and so goddamn soft, now that his jean-clad erection is pressing against Dean’s, his naked chest against Dean’s, their hearts beating against one another, he doesn’t want to let go ever again. He actually feels a lot like Cas is taking a part of him with him when he pulls back, but Dean thankfully manages to only make a tiny sad noise while he watches Cas sink back down between his legs. 

Then, with a soft smile and blinking up at him with knowing blue eyes, he wraps one hand around the base of Dean’s cock and gives his head, red, pulsing and leaking steadily, a careful little lick. It’s so goddamn gentle, barely even a touch, but after all this teasing it has Dean’s legs twitching in shocked pleasure where they are laid out around Cas. Cas grins up at him, and then starts leaving soft licks up and all around Dean’s dick.

He takes his time, placing licks and pecks and wet, open-mouthed kisses on the length of Dean’s cock, making him shake and whimper and wordlessly plead for more. Cas mouths down until he can pull one of Dean’s balls into his mouth, and Dean whines loud enough for Cas to pull off with a throaty chuckle. “Cas, please,” Dean murmurs, fingers brushing through Cas’ hair frantically, pleading for more, for everything Cas is willing to give.

And Cas gives — he finally, finally guides the head of Dean’s cock into his mouth, and Dean almost sobs when the glorious wet heat of Cas’ mouth is wrapped all around him. And then, with uttermost care, he sinks down on Dean’s dick until his head slips down Cas’ throat, until he’s buried as deep as possible. 

Dean has to fist his hands in the sheets beneath him, has to bite his lip, curl his toes, to fight the overwhelming urge to move, to push up into Cas’ mouth. “Shit, Cas, how the fuck-” but before he can finish his babbling, Cas looks up at him, eyes wide and a little teary, and starts bobbing up and down on Dean’s cock. 

He’s so hot, so tight around Dean, so goddamn soft that Dean is close to the edge in seconds, and the way Cas’ knowingly raises his eyebrow, as if in a challenge, doesn’t help at all. And then one of Cas’ hands comes down to tease his balls, the other one dances over his thigh, and just that contact would do him in, if it weren’t also for the way Cas swallows around him. And with that, with Cas’ throat constricting around his cock, Dean comes, hard and shaking up against Cas, hands cramping in the sheets. 

Cas swallows around him again, lets Dean’s cock fall from his lips but dives back down after it, licks and kisses it clean until Dean is sobbing, breaking apart with pleasure and pain, _ too much, too good _. 

But Cas notices that, as well. He keeps mouthing along Dean’s cock until the very moment it truly becomes too much, until Dean’s shaking and moaning isn’t from bliss anymore, and then he moves back on top of Dean’s lap. 

He drops down and kisses him, and it’s a messy, uncoordinated thing, but it’s better than even their first kiss. Dean can taste his own come, can’t stop gasping for breath against Cas’ lips, still reeling from his orgasm, but he would give everything he has for this kiss to never stop.

He feels Cas moving on top of him, but it takes his orgasm-muddled brain a long while to register what the sound of a zipper in the otherwise relatively quiet room might mean. But when Cas starts to shudder, his breath stuttering against Dean’s lips, when his head falls down until his temple is resting against Dean’s cheek, that’s when Dean finally realizes that Cas is touching himself. 

That’s also when his eyes fly open and down until he can watch, can see Cas’ cock for the first time, uncut and huge where it’s sticking out from the fly of his jeans, Cas’ hand wrapped around it. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean mumbles, dazed and dizzy, and grabs to hold onto Cas’ hip, to let his other hand cup Cas’ jaw, thumb dancing along Cas’ pink bottom lip. “Shit, Cas,” again, and the way Cas stutters, gasps, has Dean wishing for a faster recovery time.

“Dean,” Cas breathes, and then he comes all over Dean’s lower stomach with soft, quiet whimpers and fast breathing. “God, Dean.” 

He manages to keep straddling Dean while he jerks his cock, until the very last hot drop falls onto Dean’s skin, and then he collapses. He falls down on top of Dean, and this time it’s Dean who leans for in to capture Cas’ lips in a breathless kiss. 

As soon as Cas’ breathing has calmed down enough, he blindly grabs towards his nightstand until he finds tissues, sits up on Dean’s lap again until he can clean their stomachs from sticky come. 

“Good?” Cas asks while carefully wiping down Dean’s stomach, a smile on his face that is somehow half cocky and half nervous.

“The best,” Dean breathes, sending Cas the widest smile he can manage.

“See,” Cas laughs dazedly, “And I didn’t even smack your ass.”

“S’true. Didn’t pull my hair, either. But damn, didn’t even miss it,” Dean says, or maybe slurs a little, from alcohol and pleasure and fatigue. “Cas? Y’think I could stay, ‘night?”

“Sure,” Cas says, blinking hard to keep his eyes open. He climbs off of Dean, drops his jeans and underwear to the floor and makes quick work of switching off the lights, padding through the dark room and climbing back to bed.

He doesn’t even try to keep a distance between them, just lies down half on top of Dean again, one leg thrown between Dean’s, upper body and arm thrown over Dean’s chest. It should feel weird, being wrapped around each other like this, completely naked and vulnerable, but it’s bliss, being allowed to touch so much of Cas’ bare skin, being able to hold him and feel his breath against his neck.

The last thing Dean notices is when Cas pulls a blanket over them and presses a soft kiss to Dean’s sternum. “G’night,” Cas murmurs, carefully tucks his head into the crook of Dean’s neck, and then Dean can’t help but fall into dreams filled with kisses and sunlight. 

Dean wakes up groggy, but also feeling safer than ever, more content and warm and happier than he has in a very long time. It’s been a while since he last woke up in someone’s arms, but even then, it never quite felt this way.

Because this time, Dean wakes up and he knows that he’s with Cas. And with how long he has been silently wishing for this, he just can’t pull back now. So he lets Cas sleep, his head pillowed on Dean’s chest, used to Cas sleeping in at least an hour longer than him. And he looks, finally, unabashedly, without blushing and averting his gaze. He watches the way Cas’ hair looks crazier than ever, sticking up this way and that but flattened down where his face is pressed against Dean’s bare chest. The way his dark lashes are fanned out, the way his forehead is finally free of worried creases, the way his lips are slightly parted, soft and pink and gorgeous.

He can feel Cas half-hard morning wood, pressing against Dean’s hip, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even give his own hardening cock a thought, just basks in the softness of this morning. 

He watches until Cas’ deep breaths start to grow a little irregular, until Cas’ fingers twitch against where they are wrapped around Dean’s upper arm. But he doesn’t avert his eyes when Cas blinks his own eyes open, when he looks up at Dean with soft surprise. He clears his throat, raises his head from Dean’s chest — and Dean already misses his touch, his warmth. “Morning,” Cas rasps, voice full of sleep and something like wonder. 

“Morning,” Dean answers, soft and without making a move, hoping desperately that maybe this way Cas will just lie back down and cuddle with him a little longer. That maybe they can pretend a little longer, before he has to leave Cas’ bed and the magic of their night together. Before he has to pretend it never happened.

And, thank whatever god is around and listening, Cas _ does _. He yawns, drops his head and buries his face in Dean’s neck. He spends a while like that, breathing against Dean’s skin while Dean desperately tries to will his racing heart to slow down. Eventually he softly murmurs something, lips moving against Dean’s pulse point and somehow both tickling him and making him desperate to arch up and demand more.

“Hm?” Dean grunts, unsure what to do and where to go.

Cas pulls back just enough that his lips aren’t pressed against Dean’s skin anymore, but not enough that Dean could catch his eyes. “So that was good for you?”

Dean laughs breathlessly, mumbles: “Yeah. Told you so yesterday, but it’s still true.”

Cas grumbles, and it’s really not what Dean was hoping to hear in response. He takes a shaky breath and prepares for a retreat, hands carefully guiding Cas away. “Sorry, Cas. I know, um, I hope this won’t change things. I _ wanted _— I mean, but you were drunk, so maybe you didn’t even-”

Cas takes mercy on him and interrupts him, guides him back down to his mattress with a warm palm on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean,” he says, a frown on his face. “Dean, I knew very well what I did. What we did. I’m just sorry you didn’t get… the ‘full experience’. I mean, if you wanted it.” 

He makes air quotes with his fingers, and Dean wants to both scream and kiss him. All he actually manages to do is blink with wide eyes. 

There’s something anxious flitting over Cas’ face, but then he takes a deep breath and says: “I would show you again, whenever you want. However you want.”

And Dean tries to catch his breath for all but ten seconds, before he realizes there are more important things. Things like pulling Cas down and kissing him soft and gentle, morning breath be damned. Things like wrapping Cas in his arms and telling him: “Yes. Whenever, however. As many times as you want.”

  
Things like agreeing on maybe just straight up calling it “dating” instead, things like smiling lips meeting in more desperate kisses. Things like taking care of Cas’ morning wood, and like finally showing Cas what _ Dean’s _mouth can do — without biting, or sucking bruises, or hands pulling on hair.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this!!!!
> 
> There is a rebloggable version of this post on my [Tumblr](https://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com/)! <3


End file.
